


Penance

by grrriliketigers



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grrriliketigers/pseuds/grrriliketigers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a disgruntled former employee returns to Runway for a conference with Miranda things take a very quick downward turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_My girls. Oh my god, my babies. I'll never see them again. What do they think of me? I deserve this. Do I deserve this? Oh god, this hurts. Do they think I deserve this? I should have gone to synagogue every week. I should have gone to see my mother before she died. I knew it was the end. But I didn't go. I should have. I had to go to an Oscar de la Renta run through. I was selfish. My priorities were fucked up. I was fucked up. Everything was fucked up. Everything was so fucked up._

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. How did this happen?_

"Look at me!" The woman screamed.

Miranda struggled to open her eyes. She coughed a little bit. She tasted iron. _Was that blood? ...blackness. I see blackness. The dark, encompassing blackness that I've been harboring for a lifetime. I'm being engulfed. Am I going to die? Will anyone miss me?_

The woman bent down beside her bleeding former boss and took her chin in her hand. Miranda coughed again, smattering her attacker's chin with blood. _It is blood... that's bad. That's really bad. Did I tell the girls I love them this morning?_

"I want you to see me." She hissed. _Fucking hell, I wish I remembered her name. Maybe if I had she wouldn't be here today._ She pressed the gun against Miranda's throat and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I want you to look at my face while you die." 

_This is the end. This is it._ "I-" Miranda tried to speak, her chest burned, her breathing was labored. She winced. _Where did she shoot me? Am I dead already?_ "I'm-" She coughed, "sor..." more blood, "ry..."

"I bet you are." The woman sneered, "I'll just bet you are. You fucking selfish cunt." The woman cocked the trigger and pressed it to Miranda's forehead. 

Miranda mustered enough fortitude to scream. 

_Loud noises. More pain. Blackness. This is it. This is the end. I hope I told the girls I love them._


	2. Chapter 2

"Miranda, your two o'clock is here." Emily said from the doorway. Or was she at her desk? No, Miranda was at her desk. Did Emily announce the guest? No, Emily was gone. Where did Emily go?

The woman was tall and blond. She was probably anorexic, her skin was sallow, her eyes looked black. These things she was sure of. She could have been pretty if she'd gotten more sleep or used more flattering make-up. Maybe she was anemic. 

She stepped forward and stood to the left of Miranda's desk. Miranda scowled at the presumption. "Do you remember me?" She asked. Had her voice shook? She fidgeted.

Miranda sneered at the woman in front of her, how dare she interrupt her busy day with trivial matters. Where was Emily? Why wasn't Emily at her desk? Where was the other Emily... the one whose name she had forgotten. Why weren't they at their desks?

"No." Miranda pursed her lips. Whoever the hell she was, she seemed to think that Miranda should give a fuck. 

"Of course you don't." The woman snarled as she pulled something from her purse. Miranda didn't focus on it for a few moments. It was a gun, someone got a goddamn, fucking gun through security. Fuck, this woman had a gun. Fuck. 

Miranda leaped up from her desk. Her legs were shaking, her knees knocked together. She felt something run down her leg. Had she peed herself? Was that what it had come to. She was going to die in a puddle of her own urine?

Things got hazy then. She couldn't remember the first shot being fired or how long the woman stood over her before Miranda's eyes opened again. Did she hear the chatter of a police radio outside? Or maybe what she heard were her employees going in on a pool for how long it took her to bleed to death. It didn't really matter either way. 

It was hard to breathe. It was hard to keep her eyes open. She couldn't feel her arm. She registered a throbbing pain in her torso but she couldn't tell where. She couldn't lift her head to look. She didn't want to look. What the fuck would it matter?

The woman cocked the trigger and put the gun to Miranda's temple. No, she'd put it to her throat, hadn't she? Miranda had sputtered out a sorry, a pitiful desperate plea, a final attempt at penance before she had to answer to God. 

Her vision blackened, the black infinite darkness beckoned her, it wanted her. She fought it. Do not go easy into that good night. How many people actually think that before death? What was Page Six going to say about this? Would there be a party in the street? She could practically envision the headline: Ding Dong the Bitch is Dead. Fuck the other shoe, the whole damn house had finally fallen on her. 

There were noises and a flash. No, maybe she'd just opened her eyes and seen the office lights before she passed out. There was a scream. She thought it had been her own but she felt so removed from it.

She screamed, her lungs filling, seeping with blood. She screamed. She fucking screamed. 

Miranda awoke with a gasp. She sucked in a sharp, pained breath. She groaned and winced. Someone took her hand. It was warm and soft. She couldn't see a thing, her vision was blurred. Her throat burned. What was that smell? Was it death? 

It was sterility. A hospital? Was she in a hospital? Whose hand was that?

When her eyes could finally focus she saw that the person who stood next to her bed and held her hand so tenderly was Andrea Sachs. _Thank the heavens I remember this one's name,_ she thought. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Miranda's voice was raspy and whispered. Breathing was still hard.

"The girls vouched for me." Andy said in a soothing voice. Miranda was still clutching her hand with conviction.

"I'll have to speak with them about that." The girls. Oh, the girls, she felt tears spring to her eyes, she would get to see her girls again. Thank God. "As you can imagine, this is a bad day for me to be socializing with former employees."

Miranda didn't release her hand. Her lips were screaming for Andy to go but her heart needed to cling to someone, she needed Andy to be there, she needed her warmth. She could feel her pulse under her hand. She needed to feel life. 

"You've been unconscious for a week, Miranda." Andy explained gently.

"Where are the girls?" A week? It didn't feel like a week? It felt like she'd merely blinked. Andy's hair looked greasy, how long exactly had she stayed with her?

"They're in school. I told them I'd sit with you. I should call them and tell them you're awake." 

Miranda smiled a little thinking about her daughters. 

"How are you feeling?" Andy asked, pulling her back into the conversation.

"The old gray mare ain't what she used to be." Miranda smiled weakly. Andy smiled warmly. 

Andy wanted to tell her that many people had died from gunshot wounds that weren't as serious. She didn't think it would be a comfort, oddly enough. She gave Miranda's hand a gentle squeeze. 

"Why..." Miranda stopped to think. So many questions, which to address first? "How..."

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Miranda. Let me tell you what I know first: the woman's name was Lydia Johanson. She worked for you before I did and she had a breakdown while she was working over at Vogue for Anna Wintour. The police shot her when they came in to save you and she's in a coma."

"Where the hell was Emily?"

"Johanson got into the office and showed the gun and told everyone to get out quietly and she wouldn't shoot them. Emily says she called the police as soon as Johanson was out of sight. She's really upset and worried." 

"Why are you here?"

"I volunteered to cover the story for The Mirror," Andy gave Miranda's hand a squeeze, "but mainly I wanted to come see you."

" _Why_?" Miranda rasped.

Andy brushed hair from Miranda's forehead gently, "I was worried about you. I miss you."

"You... _miss_ me...?" Tears rolled down Miranda's cheeks as she looked up into the warm brown eyes. 

"Can I let you go for a moment?" Andy asked and Miranda looked scared. "It'll just be for a moment so I can call the girls and get your doctor. I promise I'll come back." 

"Promise?"

"Yes, Miranda, I promise." Miranda slowly let her go. 

Andy slipped out of the room and touched the shoulder of Dr. O'Hara, "Miranda's awake." Dr. O'Hara nodded and went into the room. 

Andy walked down to the waiting room where she actually got reception and dialed Dalton. She spoke to the headmistress, telling her that Miranda was awake and asking for the girls. She called Roy and told him to pick them up and bring them to the hospital. Finally, she called Emily.

"Andy!" Emily practically cried into the phone, "oh my God, Andy, is she okay?"

"Emily, she's doing fine. She's alive and awake and as grumpy as ever." Andy laughed warmly, "she asked about you, I told her how worried you are."

Emily started to cry out of relief. Miranda could be insufferable and selfish and self-centered, but Emily loved her. Emily loved her boss, she loved her job and she loved her life.

"I'm sure she'd like you to come see her." Andy offered, "but I have to go back right now because I promised I wouldn't be gone long."

"Yes, alright." Emily said, composing herself, "tell her I'll be down to see her as soon as I can."

"Her doctor doesn't want her to get too excited all at once. I'll have to go back to my office now that she's awake so why don't you come in and see her first thing in the morning. I'm willing to bet that she'll want a full status report by then."

"Alright." Emily sounded a little bit deflated.

When Andy reentered the room, Dr. O'Hara was listening to Miranda's heart beat. Miranda's eyes were closed, somehow, she looked simultaneously peaceful and annoyed. "Your heart beat is strong." She announced, taking the stethoscope buds out of her ears. "You're an incredibly strong woman. Can I get you to turn on your side for a moment so I can listen to your lungs?"

Miranda silently turned over. She opened her eyes and a small smile flickered as she caught sight of Andy. Andy approached and took Miranda's hand.

"Beautiful." Dr. O'Hara announced as she removed the stethoscope again. "Ms. Priestly, I can't imagine you'll have to stay longer than another week. You did a lot of healing while you were out and with a proper support system you should be able to go home to complete your convalescence." 

"Should I hire a nurse?" Miranda rasped, her eyes never leaving Andy's.

Dr. O'Hara looked from Miranda to Andy, then back to Miranda, "not necessarily. If you have someone who would stay with you and help you with household things so you don't over exert yourself, you'll be fine."

"Good to know." Miranda whispered. 

Andy knew that was the closest Miranda would get to asking her to stay with her. 

Dr. O'Hara took another long look at Miranda before saying, "I'll check on you again before my shift ends. If you need anything, you can page a nurse." 

The room was silent for several minutes before Miranda pursed her lips, "she said that I was _lucky_." The last word, dripping with disdain.

"You are lucky, Miranda." Andy squeezed her hand.

"You know," Miranda started, faltering, "the way I see it, if I'd been lucky I wouldn't have been shot."

"If you'd been _un_ lucky, we wouldn't be having this age-old debate. Did she tell you what happened exactly?"

Miranda shook her head. 

"The bullet clipped your lung. By rights you should have bled out. The paramedics got to you soon enough to save your life. If that's not good luck, I don't know what is." 

Miranda blinked a tear out of her eyes, "how much of this are you going to write?" 

"There've already been two articles in the Mirror. I wanted to write them so there wouldn't be any negative subtext about you. I'll bring you the copies, if you'd like." 

"You hate me." Miranda insisted with surprising fortitude. "I still don't understand any of this. I don't understand why you're here. Unless you're here to kick me when I'm down." 

"I don't hate you. I was mad at you for a while, but I don't hate you. I couldn't ever hate you. And I would certainly never kick you when you're down." Andy had expected to be met with suspicion, given the circumstances -- and Miranda's character, so she wasn't stung by the accusations. "Or when you're up, for that matter. I'm going to write that you've woken up, that your prognosis is wonderful and that you're expected to make a full recovery." 

"Andrea." Miranda breathed, blinking out a few fresh tears.

Andy leaned down and brushed Miranda's hair out of her eyes. She brushed her lips against Miranda's forehead before pressing a lingering kiss to the soft skin. Andy smiled sweetly at Miranda and whispered, "and I'll leave that out." 

A smile flickered across Miranda's features. The two women watched each other for a few moments before the door opened. 

Miranda looked up and saw her daughters peering at her worriedly. She smiled broadly and burst into tears again as the girls ran to her bedside. Miranda wrapped her arms around them and they climbed onto the bed with her, being mindful of her injuries. Miranda kissed them both and clung to them.

Andy backed away silently. She picked up her coat and gathered her bag. Andy made it to the door before Miranda's voice made her turn around. "Maybe you'd like to come back and see me again sometime?"

"Absolutely, Miranda. I'll come over tomorrow after I get out of work." Andy shouldered the bag.

Miranda nodded and smiled a little.

Caroline and Cassidy reluctantly left their mother's side when their father came to pick them up. They hugged her, kissed her and promised they'd be back after school the next day. 

Miranda watched them leave and immediately felt very alone. She weakly pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the side, feeling the balls of her feet touch the cold linoleum she pushed herself up and immediately collapsed.

She let out a yelp of pain and a nurse rushed to her side. "Ms. Priestly, are you alright?"

"My leg," Miranda clutched her thigh, "god, it feels like there's an ice pick sticking into it."


	3. Chapter 3

Emily was sitting in Miranda's room with a vase of flowers when she was wheeled in. Miranda impatiently pushed herself out of the wheelchair, using the bed frame to steady herself. "Don't touch me." She snarled when the nurse put a hand on her back. 

The nurse cast a sympathetic glance at Emily, watching Miranda climb into the bed before retreating. 

"Your doctor told me about the embolism." Emily stood up and approached the bed. 

"They've got me on anticoagulants. They've got me on everything." She said with disdain. 

Emily set the flowers down on the side table. "It must be doing some good. The doctor said you're going to be fine." 

"I don't want to talk about doctors anymore." Miranda ran a hand over her sore leg with a wince. She looked up at Emily to see that Emily's eyes were wet with unshed tears. Miranda rolled her eyes, "don't do that."

"I was scared, Miranda. I didn't want to leave the office. I didn't want to leave you."

Miranda reached for her glasses and slipped them on, "did you bring the book?" Miranda was loathe to participate in any more discussions about how she could have died. "And the photo shoot proofs?" 

Emily wiped her eyes, smearing eyeliner across her temples. "Nigel picked out the photo shoot picture," she held out the book to Miranda, "but I have the book." 

"And now I have it." Miranda said flatly, opening it and starting to read. "You. You just sit there and look pretty."

Emily sank back down into the seat. She glanced at the flowers out of the corner of her eye before casting her eyes downward to her feet. 

Emily spent every day that week with Miranda at the hospital. Between the hours of eight and six Emily was at Miranda's side -- with the sole exception of Miranda's hour of physical therapy, after which she was even more irritable than normal. 

Andy spent every night with her, arriving just after her shift at The Mirror. Each night she arrived with a cut of prime rib for Miranda and dinner du jour for herself. 

There was only half an hour during which she was alone. For someone who'd always valued her alone time she was surprised by her own desire to have constant companionship and from two unlikely women, no less. There was the ugly-duckling-turned-swan who walked away from her in Paris and the long suffering assistant who probably needed a break from her boss worse than anyone in history.

When Miranda was released from the hospital she was given a loaner cane, one which she loathed with every fiber of her being. Donatella gifted her a stunningly crafted European hardwood cane with a Tiger's Eye handle. Miranda would admit that the cane itself was beautiful, but was annoyed that she had to walk with a cane in the first place. 

As she walked, she leaned heavily on the cane. The physical therapist said that she'd recover faster if she allowed her body to move more naturally. Miranda persisted in leaning on the cane. 

Once Miranda was settled back in the townhouse her routine was very similar to how it had been in the hospital. Days with Emily, evenings and nights with Andy.

Miranda and Lucas had decided that the girls would stay at his house until Miranda's routine was normal again. Miranda missed them dearly but she didn't want them to have to hear Miranda waking up in the middle of the night from her nightmares and her vicodin having run out. 

So, Andy was charged with it. Or rather she volunteered herself.

Three nights in had been especially difficult for Miranda. Back in her own bed she was more comfortable and thus the intrusion of the nightmare into her most private place was particularly jarring. Andy rushed in from the guest room. 

"Oh god," Miranda hissed through her teeth. 

Andy instinctively navigated the room, having only seen it lit before. She quickly poured Miranda a glass of water and gathered her pills. 

Miranda's chest heaved and her eyes were clenched shut. 

"Miranda," Andy said gently, sitting on the bed next to her. Miranda felt Andy's soft hand brushing her cheek, she relaxed into the touch. "Can you take your pills?"

Miranda held out her hand for them and Andy placed them on the palm. Once they were in her mouth she took a gulp of water and forced the chalky tablets down her throat. She grimaced and reached down to rub her leg. 

Andy watched her for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the low light. Miranda looked even more ethereal than she did in the daylight, bathed in the faintest light from third floor window. Miranda's white locks were matted to her forehead with sweat and her eyes were shut and winced but she looked like an angel. 

Andy started to get up but Miranda grabbed her hand. Andy's breath caught in her throat. "Sit with me?" Miranda rasped, "please." 

Andy's heart thudded in her chest as she sat next to Miranda on the plush bed. Andy looked down at her own hands as she listened to Miranda's steady breathing. 

The next morning Andy awoke to the sunlight streaming through the window. She blinked her eyes a couple of times before furrowing her brow and realizing that she'd fallen asleep in Miranda's room. She grabbed Miranda's alarm clock and cursed silently. 

She was supposed to have gotten up an hour before and she was supposed to have woken Miranda. She touched her shoulder, "Miranda, it's time to wake up. We overslept."

Miranda stretched and groaned, " _you_ overslept. I just didn't get woken up."

Andy couldn't help but smile at the older woman, "and I'd love to debate semantics with you at a later time, but I have to get ready to go to work." 

"Go." Miranda motioned to the door, "go to work." 

"I'll be back same time tonight." Andy said as she left the room. "Do you need me to get your pills before I go?"

"No." Miranda swung her legs over the side of the bed, gripping the handle of her cane and pushing herself up. Miranda hobbled into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked a fright, at least in her estimation. She ran a brush through her hair, shook it out and did it again. 

She allowed herself to muse on the last time she had such a pretty young thing in her bed. Regretfully, she estimated that it would have been herself when she was Andrea's age. She had, in actuality, always engaged in relations with those older than she. 

She took her pills, brushed her teeth and applied her make-up, secretly happy knowing Emily would be there soon. The company of the two young women was invaluable to her. When she stepped out of the bathroom she saw Andy entering the bedroom. "I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving now." 

"Okay." Miranda nodded, already anticipating her return that evening. 

"Miranda?" Emily's voice cut through the air. "Andy? Are you awake?"

Andy stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway as Emily ascended the stairs, "got a late start this morning, she didn't eat yet." 

Miranda pushed between the two women, "I don't need to be fed and walked."

"How about watered?" Andy teased. 

Miranda smirked, "cheeky. You're going to be late."

At nine, Miranda had showered, dressed and eaten. Emily had busied herself in Miranda's study while she waited for Miranda to finish her ablutions. When Miranda entered the room Emily felt herself get weak in the knees. 

Miranda's short white hair was still wet from the shower and she was decked out in the most casual outfit she'd ever seen her in -- if the nightshirt she'd seen her in hours before didn't count. She was wearing a loose fitting white Donna Karan blouse and dark wash Alexander McQueen jeans. The way the blouse hung and the jeans clung created a breathtaking contrast. 

"Close your mouth." Miranda snapped, shaking Emily out of her reverie. 

"Miranda, I..." Emily started, she wanted to continue ignoring her feelings, she wanted to tell her about the photo shoot and not get emotional and not discuss feelings with her unapproachable boss. But as she stood in the middle of the study, grasping desperately for the life raft, she found that she couldn't speak. Something within her wouldn't allow her to speak unless she confessed. 

"You what, Emily?" Miranda sat on the settee to watch Emily struggle. 

"I love you." She blurted. She knew that whatever actions would be taken at this point would be taken regardless of whether or not she continued so she decided to explain herself. "I was so scared for you, Miranda, if she would have taken me instead of you I would have offered myself up. I was so scared that I'd never have a chance to tell you how much you mean to me. I didn't want to wind up regretting not telling you... if you fire me, though, I understand that." 

Miranda stared at her for a moment. She came close to asking Emily to repeating herself. Surely one of the bullets had to have hit her brain and she was rendered incapable of correctly processing auditory information. "Emily. Come here."

Obediently, Emily joined her on the settee. She looked down at her lap, wishing that Miranda would just react already. She felt the fingertips of Miranda's left hand graze her cheek and she looked up. 

Miranda was frozen there, her fingers barely making contact with Emily and breathless. Such strange and unfamiliar feelings were bubbling within her, combined with one distinctly familiar feeling.

Lust. 

The one question that remained, in Miranda's mind, was that if she were to give in to her lust for the redheaded woman, would she be prepared to deal with the emotional consequences? When she thought that, she didn't necessarily mean her own, she was a genius when it came to denying her own feelings and soldiering on. Would she be able to deal with Emily's feelings should things go as horribly awry? -- as they were almost certain to.

Miranda slipped her fingers into Emily's hair and leaned into her. Emily's lips parted as her heart leapt into her throat. She could scarcely believe that Miranda was about to kiss her. 

After what felt to Emily like an eternity, Miranda's lips descended onto Emily's. Emily whimpered softly against Miranda's lips as she reached out a shaking hand with which to touch Miranda. Emily scooted closer, wrapping an arm gingerly around the older woman's back, Miranda's hand still in her hair, cupping the back of her head. 

Miranda's tongue ran along the length of Emily's bottom lip and Emily was sure she was going die of excitement. Miranda sucked Emily's bottom lip into her mouth and gently bit down on it. Emily moaned loudly, starting to wrap her leg around Miranda's lap, desperate for more contact. 

Miranda hissed in pain as Emily's knee dragged over her sensitive thigh. Emily pulled back, "Miranda, I'm so sorry!"

"Shh." Miranda put up a silencing hand. Emily stared at her. "Stand up." 

Emily stood slowly, afraid to trust her knees. She looked down at Miranda, ready to incur the wrath. However, to Emily's infinite surprise, Miranda's hands slid over Emily's taut thighs and under skirt. Emily sucked in a breath, her heart starting to pound in her chest. 

Miranda's self-satisfied smirk was indelible. Her hands slid up Emily's ass until she got to the top of the skirt and grabbed the waistband and pulled it slowly down her legs, pulling her lacy red thong with it.


	4. Chapter 4

Emily breathed out slowly. Miranda's fingers were slow and deliberate. Short, manicured fingernails grazed Emily's ass lightly. Emily's muscles clenched, her knees shook, she whimpered. 

Miranda leaned toward Emily. Her position on the settee put her at about eye-level with Emily's carefully trimmed pubic hair. 

Miranda grinned. With one hand on Emily's ass, the other came around to the front. She slowly traced the line of pubic hair, like a perfect, flaming landing strip. Miranda's right pointer finger slipped between the slick, wet folds. Emily let out an embarrassingly high squeal as the tip of Miranda's finger made its first contact with her clit. 

Emily fell forward slightly, grasping the back of the settee with desperation.

Miranda's hand on her ass pulled her closer. Miranda dragged her teeth along Emily's thigh, "spread your legs." 

A surge of arousal shot through both women. Emily felt wetness drip down her inner thigh as Miranda's mouth moved over Emily's thigh, leaving a few love bites along the way. The dark reddish purple hickeys instantaneously appearing on pale, lightly freckled skin. 

Emily inched her legs apart, not wanting to topple over. Miranda's fingernails raked down her thigh before fingers followed the trail left by the dripping arousal. Miranda's fingers stopped just short of Emily's pussy, causing her to whimper.

Miranda brought the fingers to her lips, she pulled the digits into her mouth. 

"Oh my god," Emily whimpered, "please, Miranda, please-"

Miranda pushed three fingers deep inside Emily. Emily cried out, bucking her hips against Miranda's thrust. Miranda's fingers curled inside her, raking fingertips over all the most sensitive spots. Emily squeezed her eyes shut, bit down on her bottom lip and moaned. 

Miranda pulled her fingers out until only the very tips were still inside Emily before thrusting in again. Emily was about to go completely mad with sexual gratification when she felt Miranda's warm wet tongue make contact with her clit. 

Emily's fingers gripped the settee until they ached with the effort. Miranda's tongue swirled over the sensitive bundle of nerves as she continued to thrust and curl. 

She felt Emily's muscles begin to clench around her fingers. It became harder and harder to move all three of them inside her. So young and tight she was, another jolt of arousal coursed through Miranda, giving her the extra juice to thrust deeper and faster. 

Emily cried out, her whole body trembling and she started to fall backwards. Miranda reached out and grabbed her hand, yanking her back towards the settee. Emily sank onto it, leaning back against it, her head lolling back as she panted. 

She looked over at Miranda in awe. Miranda grinned, leaning her elbow against the back of the settee and leaning her head against her hand leisurely. 

"Miranda, I..." she trailed off, feeling that anything she could possibly say would be incredibly trite. She reached out and stroked Miranda's cheek. Miranda leaned into the touch affectionately. 

That sat in silence for a few minutes before Miranda kissed Emily's palm. "We have work to do." She took a hold of her cane and pushed herself up with a small huff. 

**

The half an hour of alone time between Emily's departure and Andy's arrival seemed particularly long that evening. She would have liked less time to wallow in her thoughts. What next? Would she want to have a relationship with Emily? She honestly wasn't sure. 

Despite her icy facade and her constant insistences that she didn't need people, Miranda actually hated being alone. She hated not being in a relationship. She didn't want everybody in the world to like her, she didn't even want _many_ people to like her. What she wanted then, as always, was to have one special person in her life. 

Was it Emily? Could it be Emily? She didn't love her, true, but she valued her and that was how most of her relationships started. She valued her, she respected her and if you twisted her arm about it, she'd admit that she _liked_ her. Was it all enough to become engaged in a romantic and sexual relationship? Would she just end up hurting Emily irreparably? 

She was starting to consider whether Emily truly loved her or if it was a form of Stockholm Syndrome, sort of a battered wife phenomenon when the front door opened. 

Miranda, who was seated in the ground floor study with The Book, called out to Andy. "I'm in here." 

Andy appeared in the doorway, she smiled warmly. "How was your day? You look like you have some color in your cheeks." 

_Being consistently flushed with arousal all day will do that to a person._ Miranda thought as she put the book down, "my day was adequate." 

"Well, prepare for it to become _awesome_." Andy grinned, holding up the take-out bag from Campagnola, Miranda's favorite restaurant. "When they found out that the food I'd been getting every night was for you they put together a whole spread. You're going to eat like a queen tonight."

Miranda didn't have to ask what was in the bag, she could smell it from across the room. It was lobster. Miranda supressed a grin. "Well then." She pushed herself up off the settee. 

"Did the physical therapist come today?" 

"You know she did." Miranda smirked, knowing the real motivation for the question.

"And what did she say about how dependent you're being on the cane?" 

Miranda almost smiled, "she said I ought to keep it with me to beat investigative reporters who get fresh." 

Andy laughed, "are you sure she didn't say that you should start weaning off it?"

Miranda emphasized her distaste for being chastised by giving Andy a light whack in the ankle with the cane. Andy jumped and laughed again. "Okay, okay." 

Miranda looked at Andy, supressing her smile, daring Andy to keep on her about the cane. 

"Do you want to eat in the dining room or in here?" 

"For heaven's sake, Andrea. Why on earth would I bother having a dining room if I was going to eat in the study?" Miranda pushed herself toward the dining room. 

"Because you're Miranda Priestly and you can do anything you want." 

Miranda turned back to Andy, raised an eyebrow, giving her a searing look that went straight through her, "and don't you forget it." She purred. 

Andy waited until Miranda was in the other room to let out a shaky breath and fight back a blush. Miranda knew how to get into anyone's head. Andy wished that what she was feeling she was feeling in her head. 

It was as if Miranda had reclaimed the ability to convey anything through facial expressions, an ability that has been slowly disappearing from humans since they'd acquired the ability to speak. One pointed look could make you wet your pants, and another could make you _wet_ your pants. 

"Take your time, Andrea." Miranda's voice wafted in from the dining room, "it's not like I'm hungry."

Andy shook herself out of her daze with a smile. 

Andy couldn't afford lobster on her own. It was really nice of Campagnola to include enough for Andy as well. The last time she'd had lobster was when she was visiting her cousin in Cape Cod, there she'd been able to get lobster because it wasn't an imported food, she could practically wade out into the harbor and catch her own. Fortunately, and _un_ fortunately, lobster wasn't abundant in the Hudson. 

"My physical therapist said that I could probably return to Runway pretty soon." Miranda admitted quietly. 

Andy looked up and watched Miranda for a moment. "That's good, right?" 

"I think it's a little much right now. Maybe when I'm not dependent on the medication anymore." Miranda dipped a forkful of lobster into the butter and put it into her mouth.

Andy could tell that it was more than just medication or her reliance on the cane that was keeping Miranda from Runway. It was fear; it was memories. Andy wasn't stupid, she'd rushed to Miranda's side three nights in a row when she woke up rattled by a nightmare and jarring pain. 

Miranda was vulnerable right now. Right now, right here in the townhouse, she could be coy and devillish but she was nervous to leave. She was less afraid of losing her job than she was of losing her life, of losing her children forever. 

Andy was torn between wanting to take her in her arms and try to keep her shielded from the world that had hurt her. She also wanted to take her by the hand and drag her kicking and screaming back out into the real world. The only thing worse than seeing Miranda anxious and afraid would be seeing her become a reclusive agoraphobe who wouldn't leave the townhouse.

"Miranda, why don't we go for a walk? Didn't your physical therapist say that would be good for you? Plus you could use the air."

"Count yourself lucky that you're too far away to hit." Miranda smirked. 

"No, come on. This lobster's really heavy. I'm going to go for a walk even if you're not." Andy picked up her plate and went for Miranda's, "are you done?" 

Miranda nodded toward the plate. Andy took it and disappeared into the kitchen. Miranda took a moment to think about the walk. When Andy came back she agreed to the walk, if somewhat tentatively. 

Andy walked silently beside Miranda. Miranda grasped the handle of the cane, leaning her full weight against the slender cane that had become like an extra appendage. They started their walk around the block. The Upper East Side was quiet that night. 

A slight breeze rustled through the trees and Miranda glanced around nervously out of the corner of her eye. Andy pretended not to notice. A car roared to life further up the street and Miranda gasped and jumped. 

Andy took her free hand, holding it tight. Miranda eased into it after a few moments and the rest of the walk transpired without incident. Miranda ascended the stairs, Andy staying behind her should she lose her footing. Miranda turned around and pursed her lips. 

"What?" Andy asked, looking at her with confusion.

"I'm not taking another step until you stop fussing over me." Miranda scowled. "If you believe that I'm so much better than I'm acting you can cut out this shtick."

Andy smiled, stepping up to stand on the same step as Miranda. "My shtick?"

Miranda's eye twinkled mischievously, "you heard me." 

**

Miranda climbed into her bed, cuddling into the plush comforter. Andy stood in the doorway in her shorts and a t-shirt. She was setting the alarm on her phone. 

"Tomorrow's Saturday, what time do you want to get up?" 

"Six, like always."

"You don't want to sleep in?" Andy asked, poised to change the time.

"I don't sleep in, Andrea." Miranda murmured.

"Alright, six it is, crazy person." Andy flipped her phone shut. Miranda raised an eyebrow at Andy. "Well... goodnight, I guess."

"Goodnight." Miranda said and paused, "Andrea?"

"Yes, Miranda?" 

Miranda lifted the corner of the covers, "maybe you'd sleep with me?" Miranda asked sheepishly, feeling her pride objecting vehemently to the vulnerable request she'd just made. 

Andy smiled warmly, "yeah. I can do that." 

Miranda put a hand over the rough stitches along her right side as she rolled over and Andy climbed into the bed behind her.

Miranda's eyes were squeezed shut. Her heart was pounding. Her breath was ragged. She wanted to scream but she couldn't move.

She felt the cool circle of a gun muzzle press against her forehead. Her breathing quickened even more until she thought she was going to pass out. 

" _Look at me!_ " The angry, shrill voice cutting into her head like a knife, slicing her in two.

Then she screamed, Miranda's lungs filled with fluids, blood gurgling up out of her mouth and spilling down her chin. Miranda's last desperate thoughts were of the twins, staring down at her lifeless body in the coffin, their faces expressionless. 

Miranda screamed and shot up in bed. Her hair was matted against her forehead by sweat. Andy shot up next, disoriented in the dark, unsure of where she was. When Miranda screamed again Andy remembered where she was and why. She reached out to the screaming woman beside her, "Miranda?" 

Miranda whipped around, startled by Andy's touch. A sudden pain shot through her side, ripping through her muscles. She clutched at her side, half expecting to feel seeping blood. Miranda grit her teeth, " _fuck_..." She ground out. 

Andy was so stunned to hear the obscenity come from Miranda that she sat there frozen in shock. 

"Vicodin!" Miranda panted, " _now!_ "

"Right, sorry." Andy scolded herself, leaping from the bed and rushing to the bathroom and back with the pill. 

Miranda was laying on her back again, wincing against the throbbing pain. It pained Andy to see Miranda in so much pain. Andy put the pill in Miranda's palm. "I'll get you some water." 

Miranda put the pill in her mouth and dry swallowed, "forget it." She coughed. "Just lay with me." She whispered, trying to calm herself down. 

"Hold on." Andy went back to the bathroom and wet a facecloth with hot water. She got back onto the bed with Miranda, wiping her brow slowly and soothingly. 

Miranda's heart rate was slowing to normal, even if it skipped a beat or two at Andy's gentle touches. Miranda slipped her eyes shut, Andy's fingers moved over Miranda's skin. They sat together on the bed for several minutes, the only sound in the lavish bedroom was the sound of their breathing. 

"How are you feeling?" Andy whispered. 

Miranda opened her eyes and looked into Andy's sweet, young face. "Better." She whispered, she reached down to her stitches, pulling her nightgown up so she could touch the tender skin. Once she was assured that she hadn't ripped the stitches she pushed the garmet back down. 

Andy started to get up to put the washcloth away but Miranda grabbed her wrist. "I'm just-"

"Thank you." Miranda whispered, "...for staying with me." 

"You shouldn't be alone right now," Andy said softly, brushing Miranda's signature bangs back. 

"But... I deserve to be alone right now. Thank you... for looking past that." Miranda looked away, not used to bearing her emotions. 

Andy squeezed Miranda's hand, "you don't deserve to be alone, Miranda. You deserve love and compassion. You're a beautiful person." 

"Sweet of you to say." 

Andy moved closer to Miranda, taking the hand into both of her own. "Miranda, some people don't understand you, some people are idiots."

"And you understand me?" 

Andy smiled, "to an extent." She let out a soft, heartfelt chuckle, "how well can someone really know anyone else?" 

Miranda's free hand settled on top of Andy's hands. "So to what extent do you understand me?" She whispered. 

Andy leaned forward and pressed her lips to Miranda's. Miranda cupped her cheek and kissed back deeper, wrapping her other arm around Andy's waist. Her fingers slipped up under t-shirt, seeking out firm breasts.


	5. Chapter 5

Perhaps it was the medication that made Miranda feel so lustful. Perhaps it was the fact that before that morning she'd gone three years without sex and well over a decade without good sex and Miranda was not even going to try to remember the last time she'd slept with a woman. Which, mind you, was not for lack of desire, it was mostly for lack of time and lack of matrimonial singularity. 

Perhaps it was adrenaline and norepinephron coursing through her at alarming rates that made her feel like every moment during which her fingers were not buried deeply into a beautiful, young woman was wasted. 

The fact of the matter was that ever since she awoke from having been shot, she'd scarcely been able to think of anything other than staggering fear and vulnerability. The things that did manage to get through were worries that she'd never be well enough to take care of her daughters again and the vivid desires to bring Emily and Andy to screaming orgasms. 

For the moment, she decided to table her thoughts in favor of burying her left hand between Andy's thighs. Andy kicked her shorts off as Miranda's fingernails raked up her thighs, the touch becoming soft as she approached Andy's pubis. 

Miranda buried her face into Andy's neck as her fingers ran through Andy's soft pubic hair. Andy whimpered, her hand reaching up to clutch Miranda's shoulder.

"Mmm Miranda..." she breathed, pushing into her hand, aching for the older woman's touch. 

Miranda was drunk with lust and she was more than willing to acquiesce to Andrea's salacious desires. She pushed three fingers into Andy, eliciting a long moan. Andy rolled her hips against Miranda's fingers, maneuvering her body so that Miranda had enough room to pull back and thrust in again. 

Miranda's eyes slipped shut, her own centre was wet and hot, aching with need. Her fingers moved against every inch of Andy's cunt, making the young journalist squirm and buck and moan. 

"Fuck, Miranda!" Andy cried, her movements became more erratic and her sounds became more feral. Miranda continued to delve into her. Andy cried out, her fingers digging into Miranda's shoulder. Her body pulsed and shook, her moans were low and throaty and finally, she slowed and stilled. 

The only sounds in the bedroom were their breathless panting and Miranda's nearly audible self-satisfaction. Andy's hand traveled down her body, she dipped a finger into her own wetness, "ohh," she moaned, "I really need cleaning up." 

She looked over at Miranda, who turned her head to look at Andy. With a minute raise of Miranda's eyebrow, Andy was spurred on. In a surprisingly fluid motion she sat up, taking hold of the headboard and swinging her leg over Miranda, lowering herself until Miranda could feel the radiating heat.

"If you'd be so kind," Andy purred. 

"Cheeky," Miranda breathed with a grin. Her hands slid over Andy's bare ass as her tongue slid up Andy's folds. Miranda slipped her eyes shut, moaning against her, the come practically melted in her mouth, it was tangy and strong, like a fine wine. 

Miranda's tongue swirled over the satin skin, drinking in the viscous offering. Miranda thought she might pass out from arousal, her consciousness feeling clouded and taken over by her id. Of course, it wasn't a hostile takeover, it was a willing surrender. 

Andy continued to writhe against Miranda's movements. Miranda moaned throatily as she felt the hot come sliding down her face. Andy had had just about all she could take without a break and pulled away from Miranda, falling back onto the bed, breathless. 

Miranda licked her lips and lie there silently, reveling in the sensations, tastes and feelings. 

After a few moments Andy pushed herself up from the bed. Miranda raised an eyebrow at her, "I'll go get fresh sheets."

"Andrea." Miranda snapped when Andy had reached the doorway. Andy turned, afraid that Miranda had come to her senses and was about to bring down the hammer. " _Get back in this bed_." The words were purred rather than commanded and the look on her face spoke of the wicked things she intended to do to Andy. 

Andy grinned, sauntering back to the bed. Miranda grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the pillows. 

**

Andy's alarm clock went off at six, like it was supposed to, and Andy groaned. She wasn't sure what time they'd actually gotten to sleep. Andy was sure that she was farther gone than Miranda, considering all the energy that Miranda had sucked out of her via multiple orgasms. 

Andy shut off her phone alarm and turned to look at Miranda, who looked just as innocent as all get out. Andy smiled, "yeah, yeah. You look like an angel but I know better." Andy whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Miranda's temple. 

Miranda stirred and nuzzled further into her pillow. 

"Miranda, it's six." Andy brushed her hair behind her ear, "do you want to sleep longer?" 

Miranda stretched out her well-exercised limbs and grinned, remembering the night before. Her eyes fluttered open and she shook out her hair, feeling invigorated and ready for the day. "I want to get up." 

"You're a madwoman." Andy laughed, watching Miranda sit up and get out of bed. Her eyes widened as Miranda crossed in front of the bed and headed toward the bathroom. "Miranda!"

"What?" Miranda stopped, suddenly nervous. 

"You're walking without your cane!" 

"I wouldn't exactly call it walking," Miranda smirked. "I'd call it hobbling but you're right: without the cane."

"That's great!" Andy enthused. "Pretty soon you'll be all better and..." she trailed off, realizing that Miranda getting better meant an end to her brief foray into nursing. It also meant an abrupt end to their sleep overs. 

"Don't count your eggs before they hatch, Andrea." Miranda said as she disappeared into the large en suite.

Andy sat there, unsure exactly how she was meant to take that. There was the interpretation that she liked that meant that just because she would be better didn't mean that their relationship -- whatever it was -- would end. The other, less desirable, interpretation was that even if she wasn't better that they didn't _have_ a relationship and that Andy was getting ahead of herself. 

Either way, Andy was getting a little bit ahead of herself. She had four hours to get Miranda to physical therapy. She was exhausted and she couldn't even bring herself to begrudge Miranda for asking her to get up that early. 

Roy picked Andy and Miranda up at the townhouse promptly at 9:45am and the two women sat in silence. Miranda idly twirled her cane. Andy fought the urge to let her hands roam Miranda's impeccable body. 

"Alright, Miranda." Andy said as the car pulled up to the hospital. "I'm leaving you now, Emily will be here when you get out and I'll see you tonight." 

Miranda nodded curtly, "yes." 

Andy hovered for another moment to see if Miranda would say anything else. She turned to leave and Miranda's voice brought her attention back. "Andrea."

"Yes, Miranda?"

"Have a good day." Miranda offered a micro-smile. Andy smiled broadly and nodded. 

**

"You're doing better, Miranda." Jane smiled after making Miranda stretch and use tired muscles for an hour. "I'm impressed, you're really letting up on the cane."

Miranda scowled. 

"What dose of vicodin are you on now?"

"The same." She said with annoyance, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. 

"And you took it this morning?" Jane was poised to write on her clipboard. 

"No, actually. I didn't."

"Are you experiencing side effects?"

"Remind me of them?" 

"The usual suspects, upset stomach, nausea, dizziness, lightheadedness and change in sexual desire." 

"No." Miranda shook her head, "no side effects." 

"Good. That means you're feeling better. That's something I'm always glad to hear. Vicodin is extremely addictive and I'm always happy to hear when people are weaning themselves off of it of their own volition." 

Miranda was uninterested in what made Jane the physical therapist happy and was anxiously awaiting being let go so she could meet Emily outside. 

Jane continued, "since the show House started people have an increased awareness of vicodin and they're not as aware of the harm it can do." 

Miranda unerringly opened her cell phone to look at the time. 

Jane just smiled, "I'll let you go, I'm sure you have someone waiting for you."

Miranda emerged from the building, annoyed but none the worse for wear. Emily stood from a waiting room chair and followed her out. The ride to the townhouse was silent and it allowed Miranda to muse on the differences between Emily and Andrea. Andrea was so much more engaging. Andrea treated her like a normal person. Even during sex Emily acted like an employee. Though, Emily _was_ an employee and Andrea wasn't. 

She liked them both. She really did. If someone twisted her arm to make her pick she thought she'd say Andrea just based on the way she interacted with her. 

Emily held tightly to her big bag. Miranda vaguely registered that it was unusual for the Brit to be carrying such a large purse, as she was more accustomed to clutches. 

Once inside the townhouse, Miranda stubbornly ascended the stairs to the study. Emily followed her dutifully without questioning, huge bag in tow. When Miranda put down her purse and scarf on the desk Emily made no move to remove her own accessories. Curiouser and curiouser. 

Miranda was not normally a slave to her curiosities, but of late, she'd been indulging in a lot more than normal. 

"Take your jacket off and stay a while, Emily." Miranda said challengingly, hand on her hip.

"Yes, Miranda." Without hesitation Emily removed her jacket and hung both it and her purse on the coat rack in the corner. 

When Emily turned around, Miranda was standing there. Very closely. Her heart skipped a beat and she smiled. Miranda reached up and cupped Emily's cheek. Emily leaned in and kissed Miranda. It started soft and slow but picked up in intensity as the two women's hands moved over each other's warm bodies. 

Miranda only half-attempted to hide her smug grin. She stripped Emily of her Calvin Klein blouse and barely glanced at the La Perla bra before it was tossed away. Emily stood in front of her dutifully. She looked like a good little soldier, poised to salute her general. 

Miranda stood back to admire the girl before grinning approvingly and swiftly unzipping the skirt, which slid down skinny legs. Miranda took a small step toward Emily.

Emily held up a halting hand. Emily looked as surprised by the action as Miranda was. "May I... I brought something with me..." 

Emily moved quickly over to the coat rack and pulled down her large bag. Miranda tapped a finger idly against the handle of her cane. Emily's eyes flitted up to meet Miranda's eyes as the bag fell to the floor, Emily's fingers were wrapped around a medium sized black object.

Miranda's eyes roved the mystery object but was unable to tell what it was. Emily loosed her fingers letting the long leather strands fall away from the handle. 

After a period of obtuseness Miranda finally realized what it was.


	6. Chapter 6

Miranda's first assistant was standing, mostly naked, in her study holding a flogger. Miranda knew what one was, of course, but she'd never owned one, never seen one up close, never touched one before. 

Miranda's eyes went up to Emily's and Emily blushed. "If you think I deserve it." Emily whispered huskily, holding out the object to her boss. 

Miranda took the flogger's handle into her hand, the leather was soft and supple. Miranda ran her fingers through the leather strands, giving them a gentle tug, feeling how secure they were. She wasn't sure how long she inspected the object before looking back up at Emily. 

Any questions Miranda still had about why Emily had put up with so much abuse as her personal assistant over the past four years were gone. 

Emily offered her a reserved but hopeful smile. 

"On your knees." Miranda whispered, taking a firm and confident grip on the flogger. Emily lowered herself to her knees, looking up at Miranda loyally. "Emily, do you deserve this?" Miranda ran her fingers through the flogger again.

"No, ma'am." Emily said sombrely. She glanced down at Miranda's feet before looking back up. "I've been bad." 

"And what did you do?" Miranda flicked the flogger through the air, the leather cracking in the air, causing Emily to let out an anticipatory squeal.

"I'm having an affair with my boss." Emily laughed, breaking character. 

Miranda pursed her lips against an amused smile. "That is very bad. I should punish you for that." 

Emily fidgeted, resisting the urge to move closer to Miranda, inching toward the objects of her desire. Miranda started to walk around Emily. She'd left her cane by the desk and she limped a little. She stood behind the red head. 

Emily let out an exhilerated breath. Miranda lifted her bad leg and set the heel against Emily's back and pushed until Emily was down on her hands and knees. As she brought the leg back, the thigh muscle protested but Miranda steadfastly ignored it. 

Miranda let the leather trail loosely over Emily's back from her head down to her ass. Emily shivered. Miranda brought her arm back, she felt a moment of self-doubt, a moment of questioning whether she could strike Emily or not. Did it matter that Emily had expressly asked her to? Sure, she'd threatened assistants with bodily harm in the past, of course, but they'd known as well as she it was an empty threat. Didn't they? 

She faltered again and had to re-cock her arm, finally swinging the flogger, the strands lashing at Emily's ass. Emily moaned. Miranda was taken aback. She watched the naked form on its hands and knees on the floor, there were long reddeninglines on her ass, even though she hadn't hit her with all of her might, and her whole body was flushed with arousal. 

Miranda would have killed to smack around any one of her ex-husbands like that. Miranda raised her arm and flogged Emily from the other direction. Emily moaned again and Miranda was starting to get aroused despite her reservations. 

"Get up." Miranda let the flogger hang at her side. It wasn't easy on Miranda's back to swing the flogger all the way down to where Emily laid on the floor. Emily scrambled eagerly to her feet. "Turn around. Face the wall."

Emily turned to face the wall, she sensed Miranda's hesitation but had a feeling she'd get over it soon enough. She'd had her share of lovers who'd started out reluctant to the idea but they all warmed up to it eventually. Despite insistences that they couldn't bear to hit her, there wasn't a human alive who didn't want to unleash their frustration with a little bdsm -- save for the ones, like Emily, who wanted the beating.

She spared a glance over her shoulder at Miranda. 

Miranda swallowed, her breathing was heavy, though she was attempting, hard, to keep it quiet. Emily was surprised to learn that Beastly Priestly had any reservations about wailing on a member of her "incompetent staff." 

The flogger lashed across Emily's skin again, Emily moaned loudly. 

Long red marks throbbed on Emily's back. Miranda frowned, watching the marks intensify. She swallowed and swung the flogger again. The strands cutting into the same places as the last swing. Miranda stepped forward, a few of the lashes had broken the skin, tiny spots of blood rose up. Miranda's heart pounded and she reached up to touch the red marks gently, smearing the blood. 

She dropped the flogger suddenly and stepped back, fidgeting. She stepped back to the wall and grabbed her cane. 

Emily turned around and looked at Miranda questioningly. 

"I can't hit you." Miranda sat on the settee. "I _won't_ hit you." 

Emily picked up the flogger. "Well, it's really not _hitting_ me. It's flogging. It's... I _like_ it." 

Miranda shrugged, "I... 'm sorry." 

Emily shrugged, wrapping the flogger back up. "You're not the first person who wouldn't hit me. I'm not offended." She sat down next to Miranda. 

Miranda rubbed her forehead. She looked down at her other hand, the tip still red from Emily's blood. Her hand shook as she lowered it back to her lap. "I need some fresh air." 

Emily nodded, "I'll get dressed." She got up and gathered her clothes together. Miranda pushed up off the settee and headed for the staircase. "Hey, Miranda, wait!" Emily stumbled through the doorway pulling up her skirt. 

"I can make it down the stairs. I'm not useless." 

"Are you mad at me?" Emily asked, following Miranda down the stairs, buttoning her blouse.

"No." Miranda snapped. 

Once they'd reached the first floor Emily took Miranda by the shoulder and turned her around. "So talk to me."

"How long have you known me?" Miranda quirked an eyebrow.

"Long enough to know that you're mad about something." Emily countered, "so please, don't treat me like I'm stupid." 

"I'm not _mad_ at you. Drop it." Miranda pushed the front door open and stepped out into the fresh air. 

"Fine." Emily smirked, "we'll walk to Central Park, then." 

Miranda propelled herself toward the park, stubbornly ignoring Emily. Emily let Miranda have her space until they hit the park. Miranda took a seat on a bench and Emily sat next to her. "I'm not asking you about your emotions. I'm asking you about sex." 

"Who says there are no emotions in sex?" Miranda scoffed. 

"All I'm saying is that we're having sex, so why shouldn't I ask you about sex?" Emily shrugged. 

"I don't want to hit you. Why is it provoking so much inquiry?"

"Because you're freaking out, Miranda. Like I said, I've had people not want to use the flogger before, but no one has reacted like this." 

"Like what?"

"Stop being obtuse." Emily scolded. 

"I was shot, Emily!" Miranda snapped, getting angry. "Three weeks ago I was bleeding to death in my office! So pardon me if I'm a little touchy!" 

"Miranda," Emily said softly, touching her hand, "if you ever need anything, I'm here for you."

Miranda closed her eyes and put her other hand over Emily's. 

**

That night Andy and Miranda brushed their teeth and Miranda climbed under the covers. Andy set her cell phone for six and walked to the other side of the bed.

Miranda put a hand over the pillow. "I think I'd like to sleep alone tonight." 

Andy stood stunned for a moment, her mouth slightly agape. She bit the inside of her lip and nodded curtly, "yeah, okay. Would you like me to leave your pills on the nightstand?" 

"I don't want the pills anymore." Miranda pursed her lips. 

"Are you not having pain anymore?" 

Miranda cast Andy a piercing look that instantly communicated that she was not about to talk about it. Andy watched the enigma that was curled up in the down pillows on the lavish bed. 

Andy lingered. Miranda turned on her side. "Well. Goodnight." 

Andy stayed a moment longer in the doorway, waiting for a response. She didn't get one so she retreated to the spare bedroom. She wasn't sure how to react to Miranda's coldness. In a way she wasn't surprised, but she was also sad and a little angry. 

The alarm went off at six and Andy was more than a little surprised that she'd not been woken in the middle of the night by Miranda screaming. She padded down the hall and found Miranda still sound asleep and the pills on the nightstand untouched. 

"Miranda," Andy said softly, laying a hand on Miranda's shoulder. "It's six o'clock." 

Miranda rubbed her eyes and put a hand over Andy's. "Lay down with me and we'll sleep a little longer." 

Andy smiled and climbed into bed behind Miranda, cuddling instantly up to her back, wrapping her arms around the warm body. 

"I was in a mood last night." Miranda said after Andy got comfortable. 

"I worked for you, I know you're a jerk." Andy grinned, giving Miranda a squeeze. 

**

Miranda was sitting in the den when Emily came. Andy'd been gone for an hour and Miranda had secluded herself in the den to work. Miranda felt very pensive. She looked up at Emily. 

"This is the last day. I'm going back to Runway on Tuesday and I'm spending tomorrow alone." 

Emily nodded, "okay." She didn't dare ask Miranda what that meant for their physical intimacy and clearly, Miranda wasn't going to talk about it either. 

The two worked for awhile, very little being said between them. When the doorbell rang Emily got up to answer it. When she returned she had Nigel in tow. "Priestly, you're looking lovely." 

"Oh, you horrible flirt." Miranda cocked her head and pursed her lips playfully. "You look dreadful." 

"Thank you." Nigel smiled. He put the briefcase he was holding on the table in front of her. "I wanted to come over and discuss the articles for this week. I thought you were going to give me more but so far I only have half." 

"Emily," Miranda cocked her head toward her assistant, "why don't you go pick up lunch for us? You can take my car. The keys are in the garage." 

"Okay, Miranda." Emily retreated from the room. 

Miranda waited a few moments. Nigel spoke, "I can finish them up myself, Miranda, that's not a problem. I just wanted to check with you first."

"I did intend to do it all. I have a bit more of it here." Miranda handed him what she'd been working on. I've been... preoccupied." 

"Oh, of course, with your recovery." Nigel nodded, "are the girls taking good care of you?" 

Miranda let out a deep, throaty chuckle, shaking her head. " _Very_ good care."

Nigel studied her face for a moment. "I know there's another meaning there. Are you being sarcastic?" He watched her reaction and shook his head. "No, it's not sarcasm. It's something that... I can't put my finger on it." 

Miranda reached for her cup of coffee and sipped it, trying to keep her face hidden from him as she fought an uncharacteristic blush. 

"If I didn't know better, I'd say this is how you acted right before you told me you'd started seeing Stephen." Miranda looked at him with deathly seriousness mixed with a bit of defense and his eyes widened, "no! You're kidding. Which one of them?" 

Miranda looked guilty.

Nigel howled with laughter. "Both of them?" He grinned, "the lady is a tramp!" 

"Don't blow this out of proportion," Miranda pursed her lips. 

"Wow. If I knew that was all it would take to get some play, I'd've gotten shot a long time ago." 

"That's not funny." Miranda snapped, her nostrils flaring. "Don't say that. Not to me." 

"I'm sorry, dear, I am." Nigel said sincerely. "It was a very bad joke and I'm sorry." 

Miranda leaned back against the couch, nodding slightly, acknowledging his apology, though she was still going to glare at him for a while longer. "I just don't know which I should choose." 

"Do they know about each other?" Nigel queried and Miranda shook her head. "So who says you have to choose?" 

Miranda shook her head, feeling defensive again. "If I found out that someone was taking advantage of either of my daughters that way I would ruin them. It's not fair to Emily and Andrea to carry on with them both. I have to choose."

"Okay. Who's better?"

"How do you mean?" 

"At sex." Miranda looked scandalized by the question. "Come on, you talked to me about you and Stephen -- when you _had_ a sex life."

Reluctantly, Miranda said, "well, they're both good at it. Emily's a little more passive and Andrea's a little more aggressive, but both can be appreciated." 

"Doesn't one of them do it just a little bit better?" Nigel prodded.

Miranda furrowed her brow. "Well, it's hard to say if one does it better. What difference does it make to me? They get off, they got off." 

" _They_ get off? What about you?"

"I haven't." 

Nigel's eyes widened, "Miranda, can I borrow your coffee so I can do a spittake, please?" Miranda glared at him. "What do you mean you haven't?" 

"That's the problem with men. They think that having an orgasm is the only thing that matters in sex." Miranda crossed her arms defensively. "I think it's much more thrilling to give to the other person." 

"Not with Stephen."

"That's because he demanded it, I didn't offer it. I don't want to talk about Stephen." 

"Well, old girl, I don't know what to tell you." Nigel shrugged, "the lovely Ms. Sachs and the beautiful Ms. Charlton are your crosses to bear." 

**

On Monday night, Miranda sat in her studdy, she held the blackberry to her ear, she'd made her decision. "Andrea," Miranda purred into the phone, "I'd like you to come over. How soon can you get here?"

She went downstairs to wait. She poured herself a drink but didn't sit, she was sure it wouldn't be long. 

The doorbell rang. She set the glass down and went to the front door. She opened the door and ushered Emily in. "I'm glad you could make it." Miranda said as Emily hung up her coat. 

"As if I could resist an invitation like that." Emily grinned and kissed Miranda softly.


	7. Chapter 7

"Why don't you wait for me in the sitting room?" Miranda touched Emily's face gently. "Pour yourself a drink." 

Emily smiled and disappeared into the sitting room. Miranda looked at the time and hovered near the door. The doorbell rang again. Miranda opened the door, "Andrea," Miranda put a hand on her lower back, "let's go into the sitting room." 

Andy walked in and furrowed her brow when she saw Emily. Emily stood and eyed her with similar confusion. Neither of them questioned Miranda though they both obviously wanted to. 

Miranda picked up her drink. "Sit." Emily sat right away. Andy stayed standing. "Andrea, _sit_." 

Andy sat slowly. "Miranda..." 

Miranda held up a hand. She waited until they appeared to have settled as comfortably as they were going to. Miranda took another sip of her bourbon. "For the last week and a half I've been carrying on a sexual relationship with both of you." 

They looked at each other questioningly before looking back to Miranda. 

"And, obviously, this isn't a fair situation to either of you. I wanted to be perfectly straightforward because I'm not trying to hide anything from either of you." She waited to see if they'd respond. They didn't, she continued. "And I've always known that I should make a choice." 

"And you've made one?" Andy asked, leaning forward. Emily watched Andy out of the corner of her eye. 

Miranda brought the glass of bourbon to her lips, took a sip which she savoured in her mouth for a few moments before swallowing it. "Yes, I have." 

"Good." Andy wished that Miranda would talk faster. 

"I don't think either of you are going to like it." Miranda admitted. "I choose neither." 

This time even Emily leaned forward questioningly. Their eyes were wide, their mouths had dropped open in surprise. "You've got to be kidding." Andy tried to laugh, "is there a third one of us?" 

"No, it's just you two." Miranda shook her head. "It wouldn't be fair to either of you for me to start up a relationship with one of you, it's already been tainted." 

"So why can't it just continue like it is now?" Emily asked, finally speaking, "we could alternate."

Andy looked over at Emily, thinking for a few moments before nodding, "I'm okay with that." 

It was Miranda's turn to look stunned. She shook her head. "No." 

"We're okay with it. It's ideal. Instead of neither you can choose both, without guilt because we're coming into it knowing all the facts." Andy insisted. 

"No." Miranda repeated. "You should both have more self respect than that." 

"What about your self-respect?" Andy asked.

"Mine?" Miranda looked confused.

"This is the way I see it: you're still having issues with having been shot and you don't want to get too close to either of us because you could lose us. We could hurt you." 

Miranda scoffed, her flaring nostrils belying her anger. "Of course I'm still upset that I was shot." Her voice seemed to falter at the end. "Don't turn this around on me."

"We're sympathetic, Miranda," Andy went on. "We know that you're upset, it was traumatic, it was life changing. We know that you can never be the same. We... _love_ you and we _accept_ you. We want the good _and_ the bad Miranda." 

"I've worked for you for four years and I haven't gone anywhere yet. We've been though the good and the bad. You've had to go through multiple divorces, we get that. But we're not like your ex-husbands." Emily said. "We don't just want you when it's easy. We really and truly love you." 

"Don't shut us out." Andy implored.

"This is ridiculous." Miranda pushed herself up from her seat using the cane. 

Emily stood and so did Andy. Miranda was unnerved by their sudden inclination to act as a single entity. Miranda stayed still, believing that any sudden movement would incite them to leap. 

For a few long moments they were frozen in place, eyes locked on one another. Miranda blinked and felt a tear roll down her cheek. She looked away. The two younger women were poised to go to her side, she held out a hand to halt them. "Stop." She said weakly, clutching at her cane, wishing it could do more to support her than just keeping her rooted to the spot. 

The brunette and the redhead stared at the silver-haired woman, whose cheeks were wet with tears. Miranda used her free hand to wipe vainly at the offending precipitation, not accustomed to having witnesses to her, begrudgingly, human emotions. 

She wanted their eyes off her face. She wanted them to take their sympathy elsewhere. She wanted Andy's damn doe eyes to look away. Miranda couldn't bear to look away, to submit like that, if she looked away they won. 

Miranda pulled in a shaking breath, "get out." 

"Miranda," Andy took a step forward. 

" _I said get out_!" Miranda shrieked, surprising everyone, including herself.

"This isn't over, Miranda." Andy said softly, once the shock had worn off. 

"We love you. We're not going to abandon you." Emily said. 

"You can push and push and push but we're still gonna be here for you." Andy offered her a small smile before the two women left the sitting room. Miranda stood still listening for the front door to close. When she heard the faint sound of the lock clicking into place she let herself collapse to the floor, ignoring the pain that shot through her side in favor of hanging her head and letting herself cry until there weren't any tears left. 

Using her cane she pushed herself up off the floor. Miranda sat on the settee, swinging her legs up and stretching out. Her mind felt blank, mostly because she was refusing to think about what had just happened. 

When she thought she could speak she dialed the twins' father. He answered the phone immediately, truthfully, he'd been worried about her. "Miranda," he breathed into the phone. 

"Lucas," Miranda said slowly, "I need you to keep the girls for a little while longer."

"Miranda, are you okay?" 

Miranda shook her head, "not yet, no." She admitted before hanging up the phone. 

It was meant to be an end, but honestly it felt more like a beginning.


End file.
